


A Different Choosing of Champions

by LadyIvy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Goblet of Fire AU, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 11:07:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11160615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyIvy/pseuds/LadyIvy
Summary: Just an idea that wouldn't let go, so I wrote to get it out of my head so I could continue working on Living in Peace.





	A Different Choosing of Champions

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that wouldn't let go, so I wrote to get it out of my head so I could continue working on Living in Peace.

As soon as Headmaster Dumbledore announced Cedric Diggory as the Hogwarts Tri-wizard champion the whole of Great Hall was abuzz with students discussing the outcome. The Headmaster was saying a few more words, but few were paying any attention until he clearly cut off in the middle of a sentence. Students looked back towards the front of the hall to see the Goblet of Fire once again shooting sparks.

“That’s not supposed to happen!” exclaimed Hermione Granger in a very surprised voice. “I read everything I could find on the tournament, and once the champions are announced, the Goblet is supposed to go dormant until the end of the contest.”

As she had been speaking, mostly to herself as her fellow Gryffindors always learned to tune her out fairly early on after becoming a part of the House of Lions, the Goblet spit out another piece of paper. The headmaster, who had a completely blank expression on his face, reached out and took the slip in his hand.  After staring at the writing for a long moment, he said in an absolutely shocked tone of voice, “Tom Marvolo Riddle, AKA Lord Voldemort.”

“NO! That is NOT what it says,” came a shout of anger from the staff table. Alistair Moody stomped down from the dais and grabbed the slip out of the headmaster’s hand. “This reads—“ he started, only to stop and stare at the paper in an obvious shock of his own. “How?”

“Alistair? Why do you think it says something else? For that matter, how did you know to expect another name to come out of the goblet?” questioned the headmaster, drawing his wand.

…

“Alistair?”

With a shake of his head, the current professor of Defense against the Dark Arts looked over at the headmaster. “I need to go and—“

The headmaster brought his wand up sharply and pointed it at the scarred professor. “You need to answer my questions, Alistair”.

Alistair Moody took a quick look around the room. He was now the focus of attention for pretty much every person there, and the headmaster was not the only wand now drawn and pointing at him.

“What name did you expect me to read?” asked the headmaster.

“This isn’t the end. My master will find a way to succeed even in the face of my mistake!” shouted out the Defense professor. He started to swiftly back away from Headmaster Dumbledore, only to come up against the form and wand of the Hogwarts Potions Professor, Severus Snape.

“Who is your master, Alistair? You always told me you served no master but justice,” asked Headmaster Dumbledore.

“Justice. There is no such thing. There is only power and those too weak to seek it,” replied Moody in a snarl. “My Master always understood that. He will not let this defeat him!” As he spoke, his form began to ripple. His thick body slimmed, his fake eye popped out of its socket to be replaced with a perfectly good (if somewhat manic) second natural eye, and the peg leg clattered to the floor as he also grew with remarkable speed another good leg. His hair turned darker and the cut was shorter, and his face lost years of age, smoothing out wrinkles with impossible speed.

“Polyjuice! That’s got to be polyjuice, and that’s not really Professor Moody!” came the cry from the middle of the Gryffindor table. Hermione Granger again, of course.

“My word, that’s Barty Crouch, Jr.! Isn’t he supposed to be dead?” came the next shout loud enough to be heard over the rising voices from the rest of the hall. “Crouch, isn’t that your son there?” asked Professor Flitwick, the small in stature but not ability Charms professor, as he turned to face the Ministry official. He was met by the latter’s wand already lit with a spell. Professor Flitwick immediately demonstrated why he had earned the title of dueling master as he dove under the spell the elder Crouch shot off. The diminutive professor immediately returned fire, quickly rendering the other man unconscious.

By this point, almost everyone else in the hall seemed to be talking, pointing, or just flailing their hands around in confusion. The three champions previously chosen had come back out of the anteroom at all the commotion and had been swiftly filled in, so they were also adding to the din, asking loudly if they were really going to have to complete against You-Know-Who.

“Enough!” The headmaster set off the sound of a cannon blast with his wand to shock the students (and teachers and guests to be fair, as they were also talking over one another as they tried to understand what was going on) into silence. He swiftly petrified and bound the fake professor. “Severus, I believe you have what we need in stores. Fetch it and meet me in my office. Minerva, take over here. Get the students back to their dorms, and the visitors to their respective domiciles. Filius, keep a watch on the senior Crouch. Depending on what this one reveals, he might not be acting under his own volition. Keep him secured, but comfortable. Champions, we will resume your briefing tomorrow, once it has been determined if the Goblet truly has bound a fourth person into its contract.” With that, he swished his wand at the tied up person in front of him to levitate the body in the air, and started swiftly walking to the exit with the not really dead Barty Crouch Jr. floating along behind.

“Well,” started Ludo Bagman, the remaining Ministry official in the Hall. “This is certainly an unexpected turn of events.”

The Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, shot him a truly nasty look. “Mr. Bagman, since you clearly have nothing constructive to add, kindly do shut it.” With that reprimand, she turned to face the student body. They were quiet now after the Headmaster’s shout, but it was a shocked quiet, the kind you get in the eye of a storm. And any experienced storm watcher will tell you the storm is always worse once the eye is past. She applied a sonorous spell to her throat. “Prefects, please get your respective houses up and moving to the dorms. Seventh year prefects get the lines started, with one of you in the lead, fifth year prefects should keep track of the youngest students – first and second years I would think - and the sixth year prefects should follow up the rear to ensure no students break off.  Double check by taking a head count once everyone is back in the dorms and send word with one of the ghosts if you are missing any students. Do NOT go out yourselves to look for them.” She then touched her throat with her wand again and murmured “Quietus”.

“Olympia, Igor, I trust you can get your students back to your quarters,” she said briskly.

“Now see here! What is going on? Who is this Tom Riddle person? What does he have to do with the Dark Lord?” came the blustering questions from Igor Karkaroff, the Durmstrang headmaster.

“You know as much as I do at this point in time, Headmaster Karkaroff. Please take your students back to your ship. We will discuss it again in the morning,” came the firm reply, accompanied by a no nonsense look. The Durmstrang headmaster, who had been opening his mouth again, closed it without speaking and turned to collect his students. About half the Hogwarts students were already out of the Hall with figures in the various house robes and sporting prefect badges directing the exodus.

“Olympia?”

“I weel gather up my girls and return to our carriage. But there must be an explanation in the morning, Minerva!”

“Of course Headmistress. I will make Headmaster Dumbledore aware of your requirement,” said Minerva wearily.

This was met with a sharp nod from the large Headmistress of the Beauxbaton’s Academy of Magic, who then also turned away to gather up her students.

Through all this excitement, the most famous student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry remained seated, finishing his treacle tart with a small, contented smile on his face. For once he was not the center of excitement. For once, no one was paying him any attention. No, that thought came too soon.

“Harry! Aren’t you worried? You-Know-Who’s name came out of the Goblet. He’s going to have to come here to compete or risk losing his magic! He’s been trying to kill you for forever!” Once again Hermione Granger had to put her two knuts in.

“Aren’t you supposed to be helping the first and second year’s get back to the dorm? I’ll be along as soon as I finish my dessert. You can pester me then.”

“Harry! I do not pester! I’m just worried.”

“Well, I’m not. Headmaster Dumbledore is the only wizard Voldemort fears, and he’s not going anywhere. Go on and help the first and second years. Otherwise they are only going to have Ron making sure they don’t get lost in the fuss, and that’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Oh my goodness, I have to go!”

“See you soon, Hermione.”

Harry finished his dessert and got up from the table. He for one was very happy on the way the evening had gone. He still wasn’t happy about being essentially thrown back in time to this past summer and ordered to fix the mistakes made the first time around without any say in the matter, particularly since most of them were Dumbledore’s mistakes and not his, but at least he had all his memories to use to help him out.  Going through school and puberty again was going to be a pain, but he’d survived it once and hopefully he would do better and actually thrive instead of merely survive this time around.

Getting Riddle as the fourth contestant would ensure Voldemort’s continued existence was known much earlier, and would hopefully keep Harry himself out of the spotlight so he could continue getting to the various Horcruxes and destroying them. At least since he essentially erased and replace his younger self, the Horcrux he had been carrying around had also been erased and NOT replaced as it had been gone years before his little trip started.

Of course Barty Jr. going nuts when ole Tommy’s name came out of the goblet instead of Harry’s name was just the icing on the cake. All Harry had done was make sure the slip of paper the fake Moody placed in the goblet had Tom Marvolo Riddle written on it, and that Barty didn’t notice he had a different slip than the one Barty had prepared. You just never knew with fanatics.

It really was amazing what a well-placed Confundus charm could accomplish.


End file.
